


Green

by costumejail



Series: Hyper Thrust Pride Week [5]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: (Zone Religion), -Ish, Blood, Blood and Gore, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Nonbinary Jet Star (Danger Days), Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), One Shot, Past Character Death, Rebirth, Religion, kind of fluff but im not gonna tag it as such bc theres heavy topics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24695086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/costumejail/pseuds/costumejail
Summary: Ghoul finally returns to the diner.
Relationships: Agent Cherri Cola & Fun Ghoul & Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days), Agent Cherri Cola & Party Poison (Danger Days), Agent Cherri Cola/Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul & Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Series: Hyper Thrust Pride Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779970
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	Green

**Author's Note:**

> Day five of

Once the medics had cleared Ghoul to return to the diner, leaving the hospital was a bit delayed. Party Poison hadn’t come in the Trans Am, and Show Pony had had to leave before Ghoul had even woken up. It wouldn’t have been a problem, Jet Star and the Kobra Kid had their bikes and under normal circumstances they could have just doubled Poison and Fun Ghoul back to the diner. 

Of course, under normal circumstances, Ghoul wouldn’t be recovering from should-have-been-fatal blood loss and a deep and vicious knife wound that had nearly severed a major artery. 

So by the time that Cherri Cola dragged his old truck all the way from Zone One to the south end of Zone Five, all Party Poison really wanted to do was curl up on their creaky old mattress and sleep for days. But instead, they had to carefully maneuver Ghoul into the bed of Cherri’s truck and climb up to sit behind him. It was a position that they’d anxiously adopted in the back of Dr. Death-Defying’s van less than a day earlier, but this time the only concern Poison really had was making sure that Ghoul’s leg didn’t get too badly jostled as they drove back to the far side of Zone Six.

The drive was blessedly calm. Jet and Kobra flanked the truck on their bikes, scanning the desert for any signs of trouble, but the Witch must have been watching over them, for once, and the crew didn’t encounter anyone, friend or foe while travelling. The truck coasted to an almost-smooth stop in front of the diner and Poison gently lifted Ghoul up and out of the bed. 

Unlike the last time Ghoul had been carried around the diner by Poison, this time Poison wasn’t convinced his best friend was about to die. The weight of Ghoul in his arms was comforting, rather than chilling, and it certainly didn’t hurt that neither of them were soaked in blood this time around. Still, when Poison shouldered open the door and stepped into the diner, Ghoul’s snarky comment about not having to “trea’ me like a damn newlywed” didn’t reach his ears.

The smell of old blood hit Poison’s nose and they froze on the threshold, staring in horror at the dining room. It looked like a scene from one of the prewar horror movies Kobra was so fond of. Blood had dried on one of the booth seats, smears of it decorated the walls and counter, and the large pool of it in the middle of the room glistened sickly. In the middle of all of it was a knife with a broken blade.

“Gross,” came Ghoul’s voice, far stronger than it had any right being. “Ya ain’t gonna try t’ put me down on tha’, right?”

Poison didn’t reply, _couldn’t_ reply. He stared helplessly at the blood and, if it weren’t for some small part of his brain keeping him aware of Ghoul in his arms, he would have collapsed.

“Poison. Poison. _Party.”_

It was Cherri’s hand on his arm that finally brought Poison back from whatever edge they’d been teetering on the end of.

“What do you say about listenin’ in on a broadcast?”

“Why would I-” Poison tried to snap, but his voice cracked and he had to blink away sudden tears.

“C’mon, I’ll let you pick the first album.”

Gently, but firmly, Cherri led Poison through the diner, stepping around the blood dried onto the linoleum. As a trio, they shuffled to the farthest end of the diner’s hallway and entered the repurposed supply closet. Cherri flicked on the lamp that sat on his desk and Poison settled into the old armchair on the back wall. As they situated Ghoul onto their lap, he let out a low groan and they froze.

“Y’good, Ghoulie?” Asked Poison, suddenly aware again of the pain Ghoul must have been in.

“Y’re leg’s’re bony,” he huffed. “An’ I guess we ain’t got any painkillers?”

“Nope,” Cherri cut in smoothly. “And booze thins your blood, so don’t even ask.” Another forceful exhale from Ghoul was cut off as Cherri tossed a blanket at him. “Now hush up. Pois’, pick an album?”

It took only a moment for the response to come to Poison’s lips, “D’ we still have _Songs From the Big Chair?”_

“I think I can swing it,” said Cherri, smirking. Then he slid his headphones over his ears and began to smoothly murmur into the microphone. “Good evening t’ all my tumbleweeds, lost souls, and recently found ones too. This is Cherri Cola’s Poetry Corner with me, Cherri Cola. You may have heard some whispers over the waves of a red sea event in zone six but no worries, folks. We’re all home and steady, and I hope you can all say the same. But here’s to those of you that are spendin’ tonight on the sands, keep one ear on the speaker and one ear to the wind and find something to get you through the night, whether it’s my words or the Witch herself. Tonight’s a bit of a special broadcast, but I’ll get to that in a moment. First…”

Poison stopped hearing the words, letting them flow in one ear and out of the other. Cherri was reading some old poem, something about blades of grass, or maybe sex? Poetry wasn’t really Poison’s thing, but the cadence of Cherri’s words was a good background as he gazed at Ghoul’s face. Ghoul looked, for once, peaceful. His eyes slipped shut as Cherri read and although his face was still tight with obvious pain, he didn’t look distressed. Slowly, Poison detangled one hand from under Ghoul’s back and began to brush his hair back. Ghoul cracked open an eye and smiled at him.

“... And with that, I’m gonna take a minute to myself. But don’t fear, my friends, I won’t leave you alone ‘til the sun’s made its way back around to us. This album's coming to you on special request from our resident hothead, finally cooling off for a moment. If you need someone to sing you to sleep, then curl up tight and listen to some _Songs From the Big Chair.”_

With a spin of the vinyl disc, Cherri placed the old record onto his turntable and switched over the input. Then he hung up his headphones and rolled his chair over to Ghoul and Poison.

“Nice bracelet,” he nodded at Poison’s wrist.

“Thanks, uh. Jet said ‘t was an apology bu’ I don’-”

“Tha’s part of ‘t,” Ghoul interrupted. “‘S also a promise.”

Bracelets clicked as Ghoul shifted on Poison’s lap. They’d noticed the beads before but just accepted them as a part of Ghoul’s look. Like Kobra’s sunglasses, or the patches Jet sewed onto their jacket. Now, Poison saw the strings in a new light, and they wanted to know more.

“Promise ‘f what?”

“Depends,” A glint caught Poison’s eye and he noticed a single string half full of green beads on Cherri’s wrist as he started to speak. “Desert kids make ‘em for each other for everything. It’s all about the intention behind it. I got this one after my first clap with Phantom.”

“Who’s-”

“My brother. Glass Phantom”

Silence reigned as Poison remembered Ghoul’s brother. They’d never met, he was dead long before Ghoul had joined the crew, but Poison knew that Cherri had ran with him as a kid. 

“What does it mean?”

“Tha’s part ‘f it,” Ghoul stretched slightly, before nestling his head onto Poison’s shoulder. “You never really tell ‘em what they’re for. Y’can guess, ‘f course. Sometimes it’s obvious, like the commitment strings. Bu’, mostly you just take ‘t as a promise t’ be better, whatever tha’ means.”

“Lotta them are protection, too. I’ve made a fair few of those. String ‘em up with prayers to the Witch and Destroya, whoever calls to you, and they’re supposed to keep an eye on the person wearing ‘em. That’s what this’s.”

“I though’ y’ aren’t s’pposed t’ know wha’ they mean?” Now Poison was confused.

“Y’aren’t supposed to _tell_ th’ person what they’re for. Bu’ other people can.”

“After Phantom died, and we were out on the waves. Well, I’m not sure it was her for sure but the Witch visited me. I’d nearly died in that first clap and Phantom wasn’t ready for me to move on. She said that he summoned her direct to make a deal and she gave him this,” Cherri fingered the bracelet. “Green’s a sign of life so…. Every time I meet the Witch, a bead breaks and when I run out, I’m out of luck. I woke up with one less bead than I’d started.”

Choosing to exercise a little tact for once, Poison didn’t ask about what had happened to the rest of the beads. Luckily, Ghoul chose to speak up then.

“Don’ expect anythin’ like tha’ from this,” he poked at Poison’s wrist. “She don’t strike fancy deals with me.”

A soft knock came from the door and Jet entered, Kobra trailing them.

“Hey babe,” Cherri met Kobra at the door and wrapped him in an embrace. Poison looked away and, if they kissed, at least they didn’t see it. “Y’done in there?”

“Yeah,” smiled Kobra.

Jet made their way over to the armchair and hefted Ghoul out of Poison’s lap. The sudden rush of blood back into Poison’s legs was like being rolled through a cactus patch and Poison rubbed at his thighs briskly.

“‘F I knew I’d get carried around like a princess because ‘f it, I’d’ve gotten stabbed like this years ago,” Ghoul joked.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” replied Jet dryly. “Pois, It’s all clean out there. I’m gonna feed the monster, y’want me to crack open a can for you?”

“I’ll be ou’ in a minute, yeah.”

Jet nodded and carried Ghoul out towards the dining room, Ghoul complaining loudly about how “I’m _injured_ y’can’t be callin’ me a monster.”

“Cherri?” Poison stood, distracting Kobra and Cherri from where they’d been, they don’t know, staring into each other’s eyes or whatever.

“Mmm?”

“Tell your list’ners I say hi.” 

It wasn’t a thank you, but Cherri seemed to get the message. He nodded and Poison turned and went to meet Jet and Ghoul in the freshly scrubbed dining room.

**Author's Note:**

> And with that, I really think I'm done this storyline! It was very weird writing essentially a multichap despite not having any plot planned out or anything prewritten at all. I hope y'all enjoyed it! I *might* go back and edit these oneshots into a proper multichap later but first I gotta finish the prompt week and THEN I gotta get around to the thing I've been sitting on for like, three weeks.  
> Leave a comment!
> 
> EDIT: I realized I forgot to credit the real-world media referenced here but the poem that Cherri's reading is loosely based off of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman which is actually a poetry collection that I have never read but I've read a description of it, hence the being loosely based. And _Songs From the Big Chair_ is an album by Tears for Fears and contains two of my favourite songs of theirs and I think you should definitely go and listen to it.


End file.
